


A Good Man Is Hard To Find

by succubusybody



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, Captivity, Drowning, Escaped Convict Ben, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gap Semester-taking Student Rey, Home Invasion, I love college Rey I guess, Intimidation, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren is a Shithead, Southern Ben, Threats of Violence, Unconsciousness, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, a shithead with a gun who has committed heinous crimes in the past, threat of gun violence, you'll pry her from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 21:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16503041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/succubusybody/pseuds/succubusybody
Summary: Rey Niima takes a semester off and books a remote cabin in Vermont, intending to finally finish her manuscript and clear her head. Ben Solo is a convict that has just escaped from prison and in desperate need of somewhere to stay - it just so happens that the cabin he decides to break into is occupied.





	1. Rudy's on the midway

**Author's Note:**

> this is based on a prompt by amethystcat22 on tumblr!!!
> 
> also this is what I'm doing for nanowrimo so I hope you're ready to read a whole lot of this!!!
> 
> nothing really happens in this chapter, i'm just ~setting the scene~
> 
> i haven't decided what will happen in this fic at all so be sure to keep checking the tags as i update

Sunlight wakes her up.

It filters in through the window, that cool, blue-white toned kind of sunlight that only comes around once the air starts to cool. 

It’s nice to finally be alone - especially after the year she’s had. Besides, the fresh air would do her some good, she’d said. Help her clear her head. Motivate her to finally finish that fucking book. Then again, she’d been here for a month and a half, long enough for the sugar maples to start to turn all orange and red and beautiful, and she hadn’t hardly made any progress.

A month and a half into solitude. Two and a half to go. That was the deal she’d made Rose: four months of radio silence, and then she comes back… whether the book is finished or not.

Rey rolls out of bed, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms as she starts the trek downstairs. Coffee, she thinks. She needs coffee. Maybe that’ll help her write.

She trundles down the stairs, swinging around the wooden knob at the end of the bannister and humming to herself as she heads toward the kitchen. After a moment, she realizes she can hear the birds chattering and the sound of the lake coming ashore, even from inside.

Odd. She must’ve left a window open last night. As long as it didn’t rain last night, though, she figures it’s fine. She’ll find it and close it, but coffee first.

Rounding the last corner to step into the kitchen, she freezes, one foot in the room, when she sees him.

A man in her kitchen. Not a man she knows. 

It happens quickly: she gasps and takes a step back at about the same time he notices her. Rey takes another step back, but he closes the gap between them like it’s nothing. 

He’s soaking wet - water is pooling beneath him, like he’s just stepped out of the shower. His hair is long, plastered to his neck and forehead in a way that almost looks ridiculous. He’s wearing a uniform, but she doesn’t think any uniformed law enforcement would just break into her house like this. She _really_ doesn’t think that they’d point a gun at her.

“Don’t scream.” He’s close, so she can hear him well, even though his voice is deep and grumbly. He has a Southern accent, so she knows he’s not from Vermont, either. “I need a place to stay for a bit, and it’s gonna be here.”

Rey isn’t sure what to say. She can’t back up anymore, thanks to the wall that’s crept up her back, and she can’t run, or else he might shoot her. Can’t scream for the same reason; even if she did scream and he didn’t shoot her, all the homes around her are empty. Rich Vermont people left their summer homes behind a month ago, and that’s why she got such a good fucking deal renting the cabin for the four months.

She isn’t sure what to say, so she nods instead.

They stand there for a moment, and the earth seems to stand still while she waits for him to put the gun down. If he plans to put it down, that is - she realizes she doesn’t know.

After a second longer, he stalks off down the hall, heavy boots clunking as he goes. She realizes as she watches him walk that they don’t quite fit right. He must have stolen them, and it makes her stomach twist to think of what could have happened to whatever officer owned the uniform before him.

Once she’s at least decently sure he isn’t heading back in her direction, she pushes her hands through her hair, letting the panic start to sink in. Fight or flight, right? 

But she definitely can’t fight him, so that leaves her only one option.

Rey takes a few deep breaths, trying to get herself out of control before she peeks out of the kitchen. The man is nowhere to be seen. Her cell phone is upstairs, and if she can get to it, she can call for help. She doesn’t even have to talk - she’ll just dial 911 and let it ring. Someone will have to come.

Carefully, carefully, she tiptoes out of the kitchen, keeping her steps as light as she possibly can. She can’t let him hear her, she thinks. She’s only got one shot to get this perfectly right.

She’s seen plenty of scary movies: once he finds her phone, she won’t get it back.

Everything goes according to plan, until she gets to the stairs. The second one creaks beneath her weight, and she freezes, wondering just how loud it was. 

Loud enough, it turns out. The man comes around the corner, barefoot and shirtless now with a towel draped around his shoulders. He smiles like she’s told him something sweet, and her nose wrinkles.

“Where you going, sugar?”

She doesn’t waste any time answering, instead sprinting up the stairs as fast as she can. Fear begs her to glance over her shoulder, but she doesn’t; she can still feel him bounding up behind her. Rey slams the bedroom door in his face and beelines for the nightstand.

The door does jack shit to stop him, though. He tumbles in after her, close enough now to tackle her to the ground. She shrieks, shoving at his chest. His pants are still soaked, water seeping into her pajama pants as they struggle against one another. 

“Get _off_ me!” He uses a knee to keep her pinned down while he reaches up to swipe her phone off the nightstand and slide it into his back pocket. “The house is paid for through December. You can have it. I don’t know anything about you - just let me go _home_.”

He smiles, and it doesn’t comfort her one bit. It’s a shit-eating grin if she’s ever seen one.

“My name’s Ben Solo. Inmate 337291. Pleasure to meet you.”


	2. And Jacob's in the hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to my fic, where nothing ever happens!!!
> 
> jk kinda lmao anyway i had fun writing this so have fun reading it pls

Her mouth presses into a thin line, equal parts frustrated and scared. He’s really fucked her over here, and judging by the look on his face, he understands that. Thinks it’s funny, even - he stares like he’s waiting for a reaction, like he’s just delivered the punchline to his best joke.

When she doesn’t give him that reaction, staring up at him with dull, defeated hazel eyes, he gets up and walks off, towel flung over his shoulder as he whistles a tune. Bored, she guesses. 

Jerk.

Rey sits up with a heavy sigh, looking around the room for - well, she isn’t really sure. For anything, really, that could help her, but she doesn’t have the slightest hint of a clue what that would be. Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t find it. 

She starts to search the rest of the house. If she sees what she’s looking for, she figures she’ll realize it in the moment, be that something to defend herself with or something she can use to call the cops. Like a dumbass, she’d opted for a cabin with no wifi; it had seemed like a good idea, at the time, because it would help her stay focused on writing.

She thinks about running, but the front door is creaky enough that he’d hear it. A peek through the window shows he’s slashed her tires, and even if she started running and he _didn’t_ catch up to her, the community is a ghost town in this season.

She’d have to run a long, long time for that to be worth it. He’d definitely catch up to her before then. He doesn’t even have to catch up, she realizes.

He just has to have a good shot.

When she still comes up with nothing, she finds herself stopping in front of the bathroom. He’s using his fingers to comb through half-dry hair, a toothbrush in his mouth. _Her_ toothbrush. Her nose wrinkles, and he catches her reflection, wiggling his eyebrows before before bending over to spit foamy white toothpaste into the sink.

Still a jerk, she thinks. A gross jackass. Using her toothbrush. 

Then again, as far as she can remember, people who break into houses and hold strangers at gunpoint aren’t usually too bothered with manners and being polite.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His voice draws her back out of her thoughts, looking up from where she’d been staring at her feet to find that he’s turned around to face her. “And don’t bother saying nothing.”

She frowns, her brows knitting together. “Why not?” _And don’t call me sweetheart,_ she adds silently - even if she complained about it, she doubts it will make a difference. 

He cocks his head with a grin, a tiny fleck of toothpaste still caught in the dark hair of his beard. “Because you’ve got this look on your face. All ugly and sour.”

Rey huffs, turning on her heel to storm away - but he catches her by the elbow and tugs her back before she can get very far. He’s still smiling, and now she’s certain - he likes to pick on her. This is fun to him. He’s having an absolute _ball_.

“And here I thought we were having a half-decent conversation. Not very polite to walk off in the middle like that, sweetpea.” She feels her nostrils flare, and he must notice it, too, because he tips back his head and laughs. It’s weird, to hear him laugh like that, all hearty and strong. It isn’t a mean laugh.

She’s not sure if that makes things better or worse. Probably worse. It’s better to be a little pessimistic and set the bar low.

“C’mon, now. Don’t be like that.” The way he speaks, like they’re old friends teasing one another, makes her skin prickle with irritation. Her jaw is set, and she turns her head away from him. Childish, sure, but she’s working with what she’s got.

Ben coos and tuts, shaking his head like _she’s_ the one being difficult. “Tell me what’s up. Please?”

The ‘please’ is what does it, really. He definitely has manners… he just picks and chooses when to use them. And, as it just so happens, he seems to pick and choose to use them at all the wrong times, not when it actually matters.

“You break into my house-”

“-Not really your house,” he interrupts. Her head snaps to face him, glaring, and he bites his lip to hold in a laugh. “Sorry, sorry. Go on.”

“You break into the house I’m staying in,” she starts again. Her voice is tight and wavering, like she’s about to lose her shit at any second - and she is. He probably knows that. With the way he’s been pushing her buttons, he probably _wants_ that. “And you used my toothbrush. And you keep calling me these little… names.”

He’s serious for a second, and that’s probably as long as he can manage, she thinks, because he bursts into laughter a second later. Big belly laughter again. He wipes at his eyes. 

She’d deck him if he didn’t have a gun.

“Well, shit, sugar, if the toothbrush thing is a big deal, I’ll get you another one. No problem. And the nicknames… well, I guess it’s just a Southern thing, not that I have another name to call you by.” 

He raises his eyebrows again. He’s waiting, she realizes. She swallows hard and tries to unclench her jaw, which feels like it’s been wired shut.

“It’s Rey.”

He makes a weird face that she isn’t sure how to interpret, and she’s starting to think that he wants her to hit him. She’s not feeling that stupid, though. Maybe he just wants a good reason to shoot her… she doesn’t know.

“Well, Rey, honey, I’ll sure as shit do my best.”

She huffs, but doesn’t say anything. They stare at each other until he gets bored again, or whatever it is that makes him give up on her like he does, and starts rooting through the drawers beneath the sink. He holds up one of her razors triumphantly, looking at her face in the mirror.

“Y’don’t mind if I use one of these, do you? Gotta get back to the goatee, the beard thing doesn’t really do it for me.”

She blinks and rolls her eyes, turning on her heel and walking toward the living room. 

“Hey, don’t go too far, now. I gotta keep an eye on you, and I need your help finding the shaving cream.”

With a groan, she doubles back, leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed. He’s found the shaving cream on his own. She watches him work with bored eyes, and he’s almost done by the time she decides she has a question worth asking.

“Do you have a plan?”

He glances at her in the mirror, razor mid-stroke. “A basic one, yeah.” Ben finishes the pass and moves the razor head under the stream of the sink. The bowl is littered with black hairs, and she really hopes he cleans that up, as much as she doubts he will.

After a second, it becomes clear he doesn’t plan to say anything else. “And that basic plan is…?”

He gives her a long, dramatic sigh as he puts the razor down, turning to face her with his goatee not quite finished.

“Lay low until the heat goes down. You run or try to get help and I’ll have to kill you.” He pauses, like he’s waiting for another question, but she’s pretty much got the answer she was looking for:

He doesn’t have a plan.

Once again, she isn’t sure if that makes things better or worse.


	3. The monkey's on the ladder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [spongebob narrator voice] so much later that the old narrator got tired of waiting and they had to hire a new one
> 
> also!! i've decided that there will be no noncon (just good ol' fashioned smut and the possibility of hea!) so enjoy!!

He eats like he hasn’t had a bite of food in weeks.

Rey sits at the table, not by choice, and watches as he inhales the third yogurt cup in a row, then tosses the empty container with the others and starts on the massive pile of toast he’d made himself. He picks up a slice, then reaches for the jar of strawberry jelly he’d had her fetch to slap a glob on the center. 

And he chews with his mouth open. Like a caveman. She rolls her eyes, and if he notices, he doesn’t say anything… just keeps shoveling toast into his mouth, one bite barely finished before he starts another.

“Look,” she starts, and though he doesn’t stop eating (not even for a second), he does glance up at her. There’s a crumb in his beard. She is half-certain he’s going out of his way to be as obnoxious as possible. “Do I really need to be here for this?”

He frowns and reaches for a second piece of toast, wiping his mouth with one hand. “And here I thought we were having some good, quality time together.” Ben raises an eyebrow, then goes for the jelly again and doesn’t say anything else. She guesses nothing else really needs to be said - that’s her answer. Even if he wasn’t direct about it. She could argue, but doesn’t see the point.

With a huff, she plants her elbow on the table and cradles her chin in her palm, staring out the window. Tires are slashed, so she can’t drive anywhere. Can’t run anywhere, unless she slips out while he’s asleep… but she’s not sure how far she’d have to go. That doesn’t leave her a whole lot of-

“Hey.” 

The firm tone of his voice makes her jump, and she looks over to see him pointing an accusatory corner of toast her way. 

“I see you.” He sucks his teeth and narrows his eyes, wagging the toast at her before taking another bite. “See the wheels,” he explains, then swallows what’s in his mouth. “See ‘em turning. Don’t like it.”

Rey frowns, staring at him blankly. He stares back, like he’s waiting for her to say something. Waiting for her to acknowledge what he’d just said. 

He looks away first, shaking his head as he reaches for more toast. Since he isn’t looking, she lets herself smile. While she’s probably wrong to think of it this way, it feels like a victory, and she’ll take what she can get in that regard.

“Just don’t want you to do anything we both end up regretting.” He glances up at her, then back down to his food. “Need some bacon. You got bacon?” When she nods, he scoots his chair back with a loud scrape and points right at her, eyes stern. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she says with a wide smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

Ben walks off with a whistle, calling out something about making her some, too. She doesn’t pay attention. She doesn’t care. She settles her chin in her palm again and listens to the sound of the lake lapping at the rocky shore through the open window.

Rey’s eyes widen. _The lake_. 

Bacon sizzles as it hits the pan; she has time. Carefully - _carefully_ \- she slides out of the chair sideways, quiet as a mouse. He doesn’t say anything, and she can’t see his shadow coming in from the kitchen… he didn’t hear her. He doesn’t know she’s up. The back door isn’t far away. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. _You can do this._

A few silent steps later, her hand hovers above the handle of the back door. Rey bites her lip and looks over her shoulder, but he isn’t there in the hall waiting for her like she was scared he would be. He starts humming while he cooks. Her eyes dart to the gun on the table. Fuck. She should have grabbed it, but there’s no time now. Once he hears the door open, it will be on. The dock isn’t far. The only issue is not getting shot.

She takes a moment, swallows hard and opens the door.

The cool autumn air nips at her legs and creeps up the oversized t shirt she’d been wearing, but it isn’t like she’d had time to change. Rey clears the four steps down from the deck in a single bound. If this were a horror movie, she thinks, she’d trip right now - but she doesn’t. 

Somewhere in the house, she hears him shout, but she’s already to the hill. Stray rocks and brittle fallen pine needles bite into her bare feet; the adrenaline pumping through her veins helps her ignore the feeling. Just as she starts to head down the hill, the door swings open so hard that it slams into the side of the house with a _bang_.

God, she wants to turn around. Every fiber of her being screams to look. It would only slow her down.

A splinter digs into her heel as she hits the dock, and she hisses, but doesn’t slow. She’s so fucking close. The momentum as she jumps into the skiff nearly tips the damn thing. Nearly. Her hands shake as she clips the kill switch to her shirt and throws off the docking line.

Boots thunder onto the dock. Fuck. Fuck. She yanks the rip cord.

Nothing.

She pulls the cord again and the engine growls to life. Something heavy clatters to the dock as she reaches for the handle, and before she can peel away from the dock, a blur of man flashes before her eyes. He lands heavy on the far side - the side she’s sitting on. Her stomach wobbles like she’s on a roller coaster as the small boat tilts dangerously to the side.

The kill switch shuts the engine off just before she hits the water. 

It’s disorienting to be thrown into the water that way, heels over head as they both tumble sideways into the lake. The cold water cuts her to the bone as she struggles to right herself. It’s not too deep - but deep enough that she can’t touch the bottom with her head above water.

As soon as she breaks the surface, she feels a hand grasping at the back of her shirt. Rey yanks herself free with a desperate pull and tries to move around the overturned boat, but he’s tall enough that he can walk after her; his hand knots in the hair at the nape of her neck and tugs her to his chest as he starts to walk back towards the shore.

There aren’t many people, sure, but there are a few. Now that she’s out on the lake, maybe her voice will carry. She draws in as much breath as she can and screams.

Ben tries to cover her mouth, but her face and his hand are both slick with water, so she slips free easily, twisting and thrashing against the arm around her waist. He grunts. Good. _Good_. Let this be more difficult than he’d thought, she thinks. Let me be a pain in his ass. She screams louder.

“Quit it,” he hisses as they round the corner of the dock and start heading up to the shore. Is she getting heavier to carry the further out of the water they get? She isn’t sure. It’s up to his waist now. She keeps shrieking and tries to throw herself out of his grasp. He grunts again, his arm slipping slick against her stomach underneath her shirt. 

She can hear him muttering under his breath, but doesn’t think much of it. It’s too hard to hear over her own caterwauling. The situation reminds her of that noodling show she’d seen, if catfish could scream.

But then he drops her. Rey falls into the water with a splash, confused and caught off guard as she struggles to get her feet under her. He doesn’t give her time; his hand closes on the back of her neck. With a grunt and a huff, he shoves her head underwater. 

Panic makes her puff out the little air she’d had in her lungs. _Fuck_. 

There’s no thinking, just reacting. She thrashes wildly in the water, arms breaking the surface like she wishes she could, trying to hit him but knowing her arms don’t bend that way. 

And just as suddenly as he’d plunged her under, as though he knows that her lungs are starting to feel as though they might burst, he pulls her back up. She sputters and coughs through the wet hair that’s plastered to her cheek. Her heart hammers in her chest.

“You about ready to cut it out now?” His voice is strained with an emotion she can’t quite place. His teeth chatter. Good to know he’s not enjoying this either, at least.

If she were smarter, or less stubborn, she’d say yes. 

Instead, she takes a deep breath and prepares to scream again. As the sound starts to slip from her lips, she hears him swear under his breath… and then she’s underwater again.

She twists and flails against his grip for as long as she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry she's not dead and also there's a 100% chance that he carries her out of the lake bridal style after she passes out
> 
> follow me on [twitter](twitter.com/succubusybody) or [tumblr](succubusybody.tumblr.com)?


End file.
